


The Proposal | Merlin & Arthur Edition

by Rose_Emrys



Category: Merlin (TV), The Proposal (2009)
Genre: AU Merlin, Boss/Employee Relationship, Gen, M/M, Merlin/Arthur - Freeform, Merthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Emrys/pseuds/Rose_Emrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camelot Publishing House's Editor in Chief, Arthur Pendragon, finds out that he is being kicked out of the country, and will lose his job unless he can find a way to beat the system and stay without a visa. His saviour comes in the form of his clumsy and incompetent assistant, Merlin. </p><p>Merlin goes from being Arthur's personal assistant to his fiancé in no time at all; the only problem is: he hates the bastard.  However, although unwilling at first, Merlin discovers that this scheme is the perfect opportunity to get the job recognition he deserves, and he gets to boss around Arthur whilst he does it. Merlin decides that the engagement isn't as bad an idea as he originally thought ...maybe even more than he knows. </p><p>BASED ON THE 2009 FILM 'THE PROPOSAL' WITH SANDRA BULLOCK AND RYAN REYNOLDS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proposal | Merlin & Arthur Edition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cassandra_Summers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassandra_Summers/gifts).



> This is my first time writing something on here, and I plan to add to it scene by scene. Please tell me if you enjoy it and want me to continue, as the motivation will be greatly welcomed and appreciated. Also, any spelling mistakes or typos are completely my own! Enjoy!

SCENE ONE

Merlin was woken by the sudden sound of – nothing. His dingy New York apartment was poorly lit; a single crease of sunlight shone through the gap between dark grey curtains. Aside from the solitary golden ray, the only source of light in the apartment was the flashing tint of red from the alarm clock that resided silent and inconspicuous on his bedside table.

_Shit._

Merlin’s body bolted upright: his muscles tense; his posture rigid. His bed creaked painfully with the movement.  There must have been a power-cut during the night that reset his alarm clock, rendering it useless to him in the morning. Glancing down towards the watch that was constantly plastered to his wrist for such situations, he realised that he was a whole hour behind on his routine.

_Arthur’s going to be pissed._

He had to leave immediately if he didn’t want to get impaled by whatever object was closest to his boss at the time. Last time the threat had been with a spoon; regardless of size, that didn’t look comfortable. In other words, he got dressed and out of the door as quick as humanly possible. Some may say that such haste was the work of sorcery, but for Merlin it was simply practice makes perfect.

If Merlin had his way he would have been up on time to beat the traffic.

No, scratch that.

If Merlin had _his_ way then _he_ would be Editor-in-Chief and Arthur Pendragon would be _his_ overworked assistant. Though, considering the extent of the workload and the fact that it did usually include washing _his highness’s_ dirty laundry, Merlin considered himself to be more of a manservant to be honest. Nevertheless, despite the complaining and the many sleepless nights (and not even the good kind), Merlin possessed the job that apparently many people would throw themselves, and others, under a bus for. Merlin thought _those_ people, whomever _they_ may be, needed to be given a lesson in what Merlin liked to call “be careful what you wish for”.

The thought of being Arthur’s boss definitely put a smile on Merlin’s tired and dishevelled face; though it seemed that it was irony and not luck that was his friend that day, and in his slow and distracted state, Merlin was almost knocked off his feet by a big yellow school bus. It was an event that would have no doubt have caused multiple grave injuries if it wasn’t for the lovely gentleman who had pulled him back by the strap of his satchel. He flashed the stranger a quick smile of gratitude, there was no time for other niceties on this particular morning – little did the saviour know that Merlin was less grateful for him saving his life - the real stake had probably been his job.

He raced across the street as soon as it was safe to do so and headed towards his first pit stop: Starbucks. The line was almost out of the door, but as soon as the patrons saw that it was Merlin waiting at the back, they parted like the red sea. It was the miracle he had needed.

The man at the front of the queue, a regular that Merlin had yet to find out the name of, gestured for him to come in front of him. “Quick mate, before you get put in the stocks.” It seemed that Merlin’s reputation preceded him, his boss’s even more so.

With a grateful smile, Merlin shuffled to the front, careful not the brush anyone too violently with his satchel – though it was more for the laptop’s sake than theirs. He reached the counter and was met with a friendly, nearly ecstatic, expression from Freya, the barista that had served him almost every morning for the past three years. “Morning, Merlin!” She greeted him excitedly, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously at him. “You’re looking handsome this morning! And before your first cup of coffee too! I’m impressed; if I don’t get caffeine into my system as soon as I wake up I turn into a right beast!”  She shrugged her shoulders and giggled. Although he ignored her advances, Merlin smiled politely and nodded in thanks; he then took hold of the cups that she’d already placed in front of him, ready-made for his arrival. “I’ll put it on the tab.” She added, answering his silent plea for time.

“Thanks Freya, you literally just saved my life!” Merlin called back, already half way through the crowd of drowsy customers.

* * * * *

The lift doors were closing in what seemed to be slow motion, ready to mock Merlin if he wasn’t just that extra bit faster. Luckily the panic desperation in his eyes must have been visible through the small, vertical gap, and the door-open button was pressed by some merciful soul. Merlin felt as though he had just made it through Heaven’s pearly gates by the skin of his nose. He practically skidded into the lift, his shoes no doubt leaving behind a scuff mark on the expensive marble floor. “How’s everyone doing this morning?” He asked breathlessly, examining the two coffee cups like a doctor would a patient; he didn’t expect a reply, neither did he get one. Nevertheless, with a cheeky grin and a nod he spoke again. “At least you lot don’t share an office with Arthur Pratdragon.” It wasn’t the best pun he’d ever made but nevertheless it was a statement to which the majority of the people occupying the elevator nodded silently in agreement.

One by one the others left, until just a few remained and the ding of the elevator sounded for the top floor. With a glance at his watch and realising how short for time he really was he started rushed out of the elevator and half power-walked, half-jogged to his final destination. It seemed like it was going perfectly until some clumsy intern appeared out of nowhere from around the corner and slammed straight into him, consequently knocking one of the coffee cups into his pressed, white shirt. “Are you kidding me?” He moaned as he shoved the now empty cup into the interns hand and wiped at his shirt desperately. After an exasperated sigh, Merlin looked expectantly at the intern. “I’m going to need you to give me your shirt.”

“Are you serious?” The boy asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Unless you know some magic spell that will get this stain out in the next ten seconds, then _yes, I’m serious_.” Merlin was already in the process of unbuttoning his, having placed the untouched coffee onto a table beside him. The intern begrudgingly complied, mumbling under his breath. Once Merlin had re-buttoned his newly acquired shirt and shoved his soaking, coffee stained shirt into the intern’s hands, he rushed off once again.

Within seconds he was in his boss’s office, which was thankfully empty otherwise; he placed the remaining coffee cup onto the desk in front of the huge window that took up most of the wall and took a deep breath of relief. His phone vibrated, and he pulled it quickly out of his pocket.

 

> ~ Now on my way. You better not be late, Merlin.  
> 
> ~ **Late, me? Wouldn’t dream of it!**

Merlin quickly tucked his phone back into his pocket and reached for the nearest computer, opening up the office chat room. “His majesty is in the building!” He typed, smirking as he wrote. The office always complained that Arthur swanned about like he was the King of England and so they secretly addressed him as such – some of the braver employees would even bow when Arthur’s back was turned, which always earnt a snigger.

The message had obviously been seen as Merlin peered through the glass wall and saw everyone in the main office space rushing around like idiots making sure things were in order and mostly just looking as though they were working hard.

Right on schedule, at that moment Arthur Pendragon appeared opposite him, strutting confidently through the office whilst texting manically on his top-of-the-range, expensive, custom-made smart phone. The model was called _Excalibur_ and Arthur had personally made sure the company made no more, making his the only one in the world. Whilst Arthur’s attention was elsewhere, Merlin leaned back down to the computer in order to close the chat room window. He returned to his previous position, walmost describable as standing-to-attention, and made his expression as innocent and indifferent as he could possibly manage.

Though he hardly needed to bother: when Arthur entered the room he didn’t even spare Merlin a glance, his eyes still pinned to _Excalibur._ He absentmindedly sat down at his desk, and after a few more moments finally placed the phone down next to him, switching his attention to the manuscripts that Merlin had placed on his desk ready for his arrival. 

“Morning.” Merlin tried, attempting to alert Arthur to his existance. 

“Yes. It is. Well done.” Arthur replied sarcastically. “Any messages?”

“Only the one from Lady Vivian calling from London about extending her deadline…” Arthur seemed as though he was about to make a snarky comment but Merlin didn’t pause to hear it, having already anticipated it when he took the call. “But I told her that here at Camelot Publishing House, we don’t care if you’re royalty or not, if you don’t get a manuscript in on time, you get put back to the bottom of the barrel.”

“She’s hardly royalty anyway, that one.” Arthur scoffed. “She married well, is all. Hell, I probably have more claim to the throne than she does.” Merlin bit his lip, holding back the urge to add anything to the conversation, which would probably be a comment including the phrase _Royal Prat_.

“Is there anything else?” Merlin asked instead, moving the topic on.

“Yes, take these to the post room and be quick about it.” Without looking, Arthur held out several envelopes: a few containing edited manuscripts and many containing rejection letters. Merlin nodded politely, took the envelopes and headed towards the door.  

“Merlin.”

 _Shit, what now?_ “Mm?”

“Who is ‘ _Freya’_ , and why does she want me to call her?” Arthur asked, the question accompanied by a smug tilt of the head.

Merlin’s eyes fell upon the coffee cup that Arthur was now holding up, finally seeing the message that had obviously been intended for him. “Uhm… well, that would probably be because you are drinking out of my cup.”

“And why am I drinking _your_ coffee, _Mer_ lin?”

“I may have….spilt….the other one. Completely some other pillock’s fault though; bloody moron got right in my way.” Merlin shook his head disapprovingly – the amount of times he’d seen Arthur do the same thing, he pretty much had the motion perfectly imitated.

“Some moron getting in the way… I can certainly relate to such a concept; but the idea that the moron is anyone but you, Merlin? Well, that is just utterly ludicrous.”  Arthur chuckled to himself, resuming his previous task of scanning yet another manuscript. Merlin finally exhaled, thinking he was safe and in the clear until-

“So, _Mer_ lin – you drink _unsweetened, cinnamon, white soy lattes?”_ Arthur questioned as he took a sip of coffee, the gesture hardly hiding the smirk plastered on his face.

“What? Of- of course not… She must have mixed up the cups when writing on them...that happens…” He drifted off and the suggestion hung hopefully in the air.  

“If anyone is as incompetent as you are Merlin, then yes I can definitely see how that could happen.” Arthur didn’t sound convinced.

“Who would order the exact same coffee order as their boss just in case something happened to it?” Merlin forced himself to scoff at the (incredibly true) notion, though the scoff caught in his throat half way and instead it came out as a nervous cough. “I mean, that would be pathetic.” He explained, whilst casually accepting how pitiful his life really was. As he left for the post room, Merlin left himself a mental note to bang his head against a wall in shame the next time he got a chance. 


End file.
